


Now I Just Shuffle My Feet

by wonwoozi



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Underage, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Religion, Time Skips, dw it's not that angsty imo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 23:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10261001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonwoozi/pseuds/wonwoozi
Summary: And at seventeen, the rosary around his neck had been dumped unceremoniously into his bedside drawer, gathering dust amongst the old sticky notes and unused condoms, plus a couple of gel pens for good measure. He had surrendered himself to his heart, and his heart to Jaebum.





	

**Author's Note:**

> omg i cringe every time i read this back but i'm going to post it anyway because i finally finished something, which i haven't been able to do in a while! it's a bit of a different style to what i'm used to so i'm a bit unsure abt it :^// but i hope somebody out there enjoys!!
> 
> also just a disclaimer: this doesn't reflect my views on religion per se, i just find the issue interesting to explore, especially w/ regards to my own family background

It started out weak, like the burn of dipping your toe into a tepid swimming pool, and Jinyoung hardly noticed falling in love with Im Jaebum because ultimately, it was one of the most natural things that could happen. It had  _ felt _ natural, nothing like the horror stories he’d been told, nothing to do with disgusting urges or lapses in moral judgement. It was just love—irrevocable, heartwarming, love, and it had been taken from him by the people that claimed to love him the most.

In a way that felt like walking into an icy, neon blue room, swathed in colour and blinded by light, his feelings for Jaebum had come to him as though in a dream; one that numbed him to the bone and tipped his worldview on its head. By age fifteen his two palms were no longer folded in prayer but instead pressed to Jaebum’s chest, stomach, back—fisted in dark hair or curled against his taffy tinted cheeks. By sixteen he had learnt that his mouth could be used for far more than service and psalms, that Jaebum loved the way he sounded when he cursed and that he could have a sharp tongue when he needed to. And at seventeen, the rosary around his neck had been dumped unceremoniously into his bedside drawer, gathering dust amongst the old sticky notes and unused condoms, plus a couple of gel pens for good measure. He had surrendered himself to his heart, and his heart to Jaebum.

 

It was the nature of a thirteen year old boy to believe he knew it all, and that everything he believed was gospel truth because he had been told that it was. So naive and vulnerable, an impressionable slab of clay, a thirteen year old Jinyoung had spat the word ‘queer’ at a kid from his preppy, new boarding school, goaded on by the warbled cheers of a few of his classmates. 

The poor kid had been caught out on valentine's day as he prepared an anonymous card for the object of his affections—a boy in the year above who tutored him on occasion. He’d been found trying to slip it into the boy’s locker unseen and had been dragged out onto the playground, taunted and exposed. Jinyoung hadn’t felt the pain or the guilt at the first flash of hurt on the kid’s face but when the tears started weltering and the name calling didn’t stop, he felt panic rise up in his chest, and an overwhelming sense of remorse in his stomach. 

But he didn’t do anything, not a hint of movement, just stood still like a deer in the headlights and watched as the poor kid got knocked to the ground.

The ordeal got torn apart by a passing teacher who saw pupils ganging up on each other from across the greying asphalt, and the boy had transferred to another school the following week. When Jinyoung spoke to his parents about it, his father had told him that it was probably for the best, and that it would be good for him not to associate with  _ ‘that kind’ _ again. He’d shrugged it off and said grace before tucking into his mashed potatoes, the guilt immediately slipping away as he gulped down his water.

 

But Im Jaebum was a whirlwind of sorts, an unrelenting, confusing power that didn’t give Jinyoung a moment to breathe as he stepped into his life without permission or little more than a ‘hello’. He’d been visiting for an open day when they first met, in the dim light of the art department corridor, and for a split second Jinyoung had thought the boy might be an angel. Not because of the glowing light pouring in from the window behind him, or because of his abrupt presence in a space where he didn’t belong, nor his typically rugged good looks, but because he felt familiar to Jinyoung without being a face he’d ever seen before. Jinyoung had met people with eyes of a similar brown, but not quite as dark or mischievous, and the way he carried himself felt like an old friend even as less than an acquaintance. 

“Hi, I’m here for the open day. Any clue where the nearest toilet is?” He’d asked in a smooth, unfaltering voice, rich like sweet syrup and just as sticky.

Jinyoung had stammered briefly before pointing him in the direction of the art department bathroom and spent the rest of the day with those eyes on his mind and a smile upon his lips. 

After that, Jinyoung had totally forgotten about him, naturally, until the start of the next semester when the same stranger that had left such an impression with so few words, took the seat next to his, hardly even batting an eyelash. It felt like being drenched in yellow, the warmth of summer and the glow of new beginnings, only to be sprayed clean like a car in its wash as the heavy reality of his clunky textbook falling to the ground woke him up.

He swiped it back as quickly as possible, the pinkish hue of embarrassment dusting his cheeks, and remained seized by silence for the rest of the lesson. 

At the age of fourteen years old, there was no way in hell that Jinyoung would admit his growing interest in boys. He couldn’t even say anything in the confessional, his tongue like glue and heavy in his mouth. He had been resigned to watching idly from the sidelines as the other boys kicked a football around during sports, the sweat dripping from their brows and pooling at their collars, and Jinyoung would lick his lips in both indulgence and resistance. In the changing room he would do his best to keep his eyes trained forwards as he buttoned up his shirt at record speed, but his concentration would falter when somebody cheered loudly and he couldn’t help but glance at all the tan skin on show, if only for a second.

He prayed for it to stop every day, sure that if his dad found out, he’d disown him and bar him from the Church. It felt like a secret he couldn’t tell anybody, and he thought back to all those times that he’d witnessed others being ridiculed and torn down. It frightened him to the core. All he’d ever done was love God and do everything his parents told him to, so why was he being punished? How could this still happen to him, despite everything?

 

It wasn’t until he witnessed a fist fight behind the music block that the weight on his shoulders felt elevated. It was Jaebum, with his fists bloodied and left cheek simmering, a steady dribble of startling scarlet trickling down his chin from his split lip as he stood tall over a boy whose knuckles were equally bruised. 

A small, scared looking boy stood off to the side with watery eyes, his arms wrapped around his torso like he was trying to squeeze the comfort out of his own body, and Jinyoung watched in awe as Jaebum landed a harsh-sounding kick to the stomach.

“Don’t ever touch him again, you hear me?” He spat, blood dripping from his mouth to the floor in an awkward rhythm, jolted by his jaw extending to curse at the boy. “He may like boys but he sure as hell doesn’t like you. You’ve literally got a face only a mother could love, so why don’t you move along before I make it even worse?” 

The boy had pulled himself up onto shaky legs and made a dash for it, shoving past Jinyoung with his hands cupped over his profusely bleeding nose. It was at that moment that Jaebum and the other kid turned to him with widening eyes, previously unaware of another person’s presence. Jaebum nodded to the other boy to leave and stood waiting, eyes pinned to Jinyoung as the sun in the sky trailed slowly towards the west. 

The second they were alone, Jinyoung felt hands grab his shirt and his back hit the wall, the breath knocked out of him for a quick moment. 

“Why are you here?” Jaebum asked, as blunt as he’d ever heard him.

“I-I,” Jinyoung stumbled, eyes finding Jaebum’s as he tried desperately to process the question. 

“Are you gonna grass on me? Huh?” 

Jinyoung shook his head, the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins sending a wave of thrill down his spine, crashing into his ribs and making him choke on his words. Jaebum seemed to contemplate him for a moment, their bodies close, breaths even closer, and Jinyoung felt lightheaded. 

“Alright, I believe you.” He had said, unhanding Jinyoung and leaning back to let him leave, but some part of Jinyoung must’ve been feeling brave that day because instead of fleeing as he usually would, he stood his ground and wrapped a firm hand around Jaebum’s wrist. 

“Did you…” He started, voice squeakier than intended. “Does that boy, y’know…  _ like _ other boys?

Jaebum watched him curiously. 

“What’s it to you?” 

Jinyoung flushed, ducking away slightly.

“...Nothing. Never mind.” He shrugged, letting go of Jaebum and turning to leave. He had no clue what he’d been thinking, asking something so boldly that was an extremely personal matter. 

“Do  _ you _ like boys?”

It had seemed Jaebum wasn’t so afraid of being forthright either. 

Jinyoung had frozen in his tracks, back turned to Jaebum, and the fear and shame that he repressed on a daily basis came out of the depths to drag him down. He had an option in this; admit the truth and suffer the consequences or lie through his teeth to the one person who might not judge him for it. 

Surrounded by nothing but the silence surrounded by them, Jinyoung’s voice cut through the air like a foghorn,

“What’s it to you?”

And Jaebum said nothing as the younger boy walked off, back to his room.

 

He should’ve seen it coming when they first kissed, a week after Jaebum’s fifteenth birthday and a couple of days since everybody had got back from christmas break. He’d looked handsome, older somehow, and Jinyoung still wouldn’t admit that it stirred up a feeling in his gut he’d rather not confront. 

It had been dark in the closet Jaebum dragged him off to, pressing him up against the door just like he’d done behind the music block, two palms on either side of his head.

“Jinyoung, be honest, do you like guys?” He’d asked airily and Jinyoung’s knees had wobbled. Of course there was that ensconced shame that was always with him, the idea that God was watching and judging, ready to condemn him for maintaining such little self control. But when he was with Jaebum, it was like all of that changed, and suddenly the only thing that mattered was the sweet scent of peppermint on the older boys breath.

“If...If I say I do, if I say that I do like boys…what are you going to do about it?” He’d replied, unable to make out more than Jaebum’s gleaming eyes and cheshire cat smile in the dim light.

“I dunno, maybe...” He leaned in, their faces only a few centimetres apart. “This?”

Jaebum’s lips were soft like a hand picked nectarine, so warm and tangible against his own. He’d been expecting some kind of shock, some kind of overwhelming disgust or guilt to hit him like a tonne of bricks, but it was quite the opposite. Jaebum’s lips on his felt  _ right,  _ like a justice in the courts or a clergyman on his knees, and what he had felt in that moment was not shame or uncleanliness, but  _ want.  _ He wanted more of this, more of Jaebum, more of the pleasure of sharing a secret so intimate that it made him blush just to think about. 

They’d kissed until Jinyoung’s lips were a little rough and sore, before discreetly parting and going their separate ways, stupid grins plastered across both of their faces.

Their ‘meetings’, as Jinyoung referred to them, started to become more frequent as time went on; Jinyoung giving less thought to his worship and more to the purpling marks he left under Jaebum’s collar. He wasn’t as attentive during Bible study and would daydream about Jaebum’s hands on his waist, on his thighs, just touching him and feeling him in a way that he knew had to be real. He didn’t have to worry about Jaebum’s omniscience or existence, didn’t have to wonder if he’d been forgotten about, not when he had his legs on either side of Jaebum’s stomach, their clean pressed shirts wrinkled and askew, and Jaebum spoke his name like it was his favourite hymn.

Yes, Jaebum was real and Jinyoung, for really the first time in his life, felt certain of something.

 

As their secret relationship escalated, now both sixteen, Jinyoung began to wonder how many boys Jaebum had been with, or was currently with. They didn’t talk much about what happened between them, there were usually too many cravings to waste time talking, but it left him curious about the nature of their affair. Too afraid to ask for fear of disliking the answer though, Jinyoung kept his mouth shut unless Jaebum wanted to kiss him. 

And their ever growing closeness had been picked up on by a few of Jinyoung’s friends, narrowed eyes sliding between the two of them during silent revision in the library, their knees barely brushing under the table. Mark Tuan, one of the boys Jinyoung had become close to in his first year, pulled him aside one day to ask about it. 

“Is there something going on between you and Jaebum?” He’d asked, and Jinyoung had felt his entire body freeze up. That paralysing fear had hit him full force and he paled at the idea of losing all of this for simple carelessness. 

“What do you mean?”

Mark gave him an indecipherable look as he folded his arms uncomfortably.

“You two just seem… a lot closer, as of late. You keep glancing at each other during Bible study, so I thought I might ask.”

A pause. Jinyoung’s heartbeat in his ears like a drum.

“It’s nothing, he’s just very friendly and we get on well.” Jinyoung nodded, avoiding Mark’s eyes. “Now if that’s all, I’ll be going—”

“I can help you, you know?” Mark had said earnestly, eyebrows folded in worry. “It’s—people sin, it’s the inherent flaw of human nature, but you can control it. If you’ve been having these… urges, you can resist them. You can overcome it.”

Jinyoung had felt tears well at the back of his throat, a sudden tight sensation inching across his chest in a way that made it hard to breathe. 

He had tried to stop his voice from cracking as he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about”, but the sentence came out slightly squeaky and Jinyoung had turned away in embarrassment, strutting off with a growing hole in chest, trying not to cry.

  
  


He’d brought it up to Jaebum about a week later as he lay with his head in the older boy’s lap, short fingers carding through his hair as the two lay comfortably on Jaebum’s bed in the deserted dormitory.

“Jaebum?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think that what we’re doing is… wrong?”

Jaebum’s hand had stilled, woven through the loose hairs on Jinyoung’s head, and he swallowed on the lump in his throat.

He frowned.

“Why would it be wrong?”

Jinyoung sighed.

“Because the Bible says man shall not lie with a man as with a woman, I suppose. And Mark told me he could help me overcome my sinning if I was having ‘urges’.” He explained, slender fingers fiddling idly with a loose thread on Jaebum’s joggers.

One glance at Jaebum was enough to tell he was mad—his jaw tense and jutting out, eyes hard and other fist clenched. 

“They’re wrong, Jinyoung. They just don’t understand.” He said firmly but quietly.

“But, what if they’re not? What if at the end of all of..  _ this _ , all we have waiting for us is punishment. What if there is actually a point to what they’re saying?” Jinyoung sat up, Jaebum’s arm falling limply to his side. 

“Have you ever read Deutero-Isaiah, in the Old Testament?” Jaebum had asked, eyes on Jinyoung now.

Jinyoung shrugged. “A while ago, why?”

“There’s a quotation I really like. It says: All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers and the flower fades.” 

Jinyoung watched with interest as Jaebum’s eyes changed, like somebody lit a fire in them a long time ago that was going to have a hard time burning out.

“There will come a day where you and I won’t belong on this planet anymore, and we will die. I don’t want to look back on my life at the end of it all and regret that I wasn’t myself. If the grass withers, if the flower is going to fucking fade anyway, then I’m going to be who I am unapologetically. If God truly loves us, then he won’t stop us loving.”

Jinyoung had sat still, eyes on Jaebum, his heart racing in his chest at the idea of never being allowed to love this beautiful example of a human being. Love—he hadn’t considered it before but, thinking about it, he was probably falling into it with Jaebum. That wasn’t a thought he wanted to entertain just then.

Instead, he leant forwards and kissed Jaebum, kissed him with the weird rush of feelings coursing through his body, kissed him in apology for ever thinking that what they had could be remotely wrong. And Jaebum kissed back, took Jinyoung’s chin between his thumb and forefinger as their noses sidled up together, lips gentle. He pulled away for a moment to look Jinyoung in the eyes.

“Jinyoung, only God can judge us, and God loves us all. Don’t let stupid, hateful people ever make you ashamed of who you are.” 

Jaebum sounded so sure that it made Jinyoung feel safe here with him, their breath curling together on every individual exhale.  _ Yeah,  _ he thought,  _ this is probably love.  _

He kissed him again, let Jaebum push him down against the bed, and for the first time since he’d hit puberty, he didn’t feel ashamed.

 

It all came to an end too quickly for Jinyoung, the harsh reality catching up to him all of a sudden and rendering him heartbroken. They were seventeen and Jinyoung had finally jumped the hurdle of giving up his virginity to Jaebum. 

The older boy had made comments about the bullshit legitimacy of ‘virginity’ before but Jinyoung still had an odd sentiment about it, aware that a lot of the connotations  _ were  _ in fact bullshit, but still somewhat hesitant. He wasn’t stupid or passive or naive, not anymore, but seventeen years of being told what to do doesn’t vanish at the push of a button. Yet Jaebum hadn’t pressured him whatsoever and they stuck to handsy makeout sessions, knees knocked together and foreheads flushed.

If Jinyoung had told his fifteen year old self that it had actually been  _ him  _ who ultimately initiated sex with Jaebum, his poor, younger self would've probably passed out. However, Jinyoung hadn’t felt as nervous as he’d anticipated as he hooked a leg over Jaebum’s waist and slowly unbuttoned his white cotton shirt. 

It was all with the warmth of the sun—every short breath a silent plea, his whimpers and moans a relief to them both. Jaebum had been tender but not patronising, treating Jinyoung with consideration but not like a glass chalice that could shatter in his hold. He pressed his nose to Jinyoung’s stomach and doused him with sweet kisses, gasping when Jinyoung knotted his fingers in his hair. Jinyoung felt dizzy, like he had been lucked up on liquor and Jaebum’s hands on his hips were a beacon of light down from heaven. He’d never wanted so badly to be littered with red and mauve, the same way he’d never said anybody else’s name with such pietistic praise. If he would give himself up to anybody, it would only be Jaebum.

Jaebum had held him as they slept, his heartbeat a persistent drum in the silence of the night, and Jinyoung’s ear felt balmy where it was pressed against the skin of his chest. The wind howled past the windows, shaking the glass ever so slightly in its frames, before his eyes fell shut and sleep took him over.  
  


Then everything that could’ve possibly gone wrong did just that.

 

It had been the night of the graduating year's halloween ball, and both of them had sneaked out into the dark veil of the night, hands discreetly interlocked. There had been nobody around, most of the teachers confined to their offices with ink smeared up to their wrists, while the others stood about idly as they chaperoned the students.

There were lights and music and the costumes provided the perfect escape, so that’s exactly what they did. They had been ironed to a tree in the courtyard, two shadows tamped into one, with face paint smeared across their hungry lips in a fit of carelessness. 

Jinyoung had felt the heart in his chest freeze and drop at the sound of a voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“What are you two doing out here?” 

There had been too many thoughts to compute, too many feelings to break free of, and all he could understand was Jaebum stepping in front of him as if to shield him from the situation. It had been another boy from their year—a prefect, Jackson Wang. Jackson was a perfect student; good grades, polished shoes, and one of the friendliest people in the entire school. But he was loyal to a fault, and his loyalties lay with the teachers that had assigned him his role as prefect.

It was almost like the entire thing had happened in soundless, colourless, slow motion. Jackson refused to fight with Jaebum, only repeating that it’d be better for them all if they followed him to the principal’s office. So that’s what they did, the two of them side-by-side as they walked shamefully behind Jackson down the eerily lit corridors, feet scuffing against the freshly cleaned linoleum. 

Jinyoung could hardly listen as they sat in front of their teachers, cheeks burning with humiliation, and listened to the principal rant about the school’s values and their reputation being tarnished. It wasn’t until they’d said that parents would have to be involved that Jinyoung spoke up.

“No, you can’t.” He’d begged, numb to the bone. 

The principal had narrowed his eyes, hand hovering just above the phone on his desk. 

“Listen, Mr Park, with all due respect, violating school rules to such a degree calls for some serious consequences. Both you and Mr Im's parents will be contacted and the situation will be explained to them.”

He couldn’t even speak, tongue completely tied as he stared blankly at the framed painting of Jesus and Mary behind the principal’s balding head, Jaebum slouching in the chair right beside him. It was so unbelievable how quickly everything had slipped and he was suddenly back to square one; ashamed and afraid of his parent's opinions.

 

As they'd left the office with their heads hung, Jaebum’s hands curled firmly at his sides, Jackson looked up at them worriedly from where he’d been leaning against the wall in wait.

“Are you guys alri—”

He didn’t get much out before Jaebum was shoving him against the wall, hard, his fingers digging into the lapels of Jackson’s blazer with a ferocity that Jinyoung had never seen before. 

“Don’t ever fucking speak to me again, you hear me? Don’t look at me, or Jinyoung, ever again or I’ll smash your fucking face in.”

Jackson had swallowed, frightened out of his skin, and nodded quickly before scrambling off in the opposite direction, away from Jaebum’s seething grip. 

There was silence for a moment.

“Jaebum?” 

Jaebum didn’t look at him, his broad shoulders hunched over and his gaze fixed to the floor. 

“Jaebum, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

He’d sounded so assured, so firm in his words. Jinyoung was left speechless.

“It’s not okay, Jinyoung, is it?” He finally turned to him with wet eyes, lip quivering almost imperceptibly. “Because you’re terrified, I know you are, and I am too. But I’m just… angry, I’m fucking angry because I don’t want you to be afraid or ashamed or any of that bullshit. I just wanted you to be happy.”

Jinyoung could feel his eyes prickle with tears at the desperation in Jaebum’s voice, the slight croak of misery seeping in at the edges. He took a step closer to the older boy, their watery eyes transfixed, and slid his arms up to hold Jaebum’s face.

“You make me happy.”

Nobody saw the passionate embrace of arms and lips in the dimly lit lanes of the schoolground.

 

It has to be said that news spreads like wildfire in a boarding school and soon enough almost the entire year knew about Jinyoung and Jaebum. Jinyoung had figured it out through the hushed whispers and knowing stares, glances in the locker room as he headed to a cubicle to change into his gym clothes. 

Everybody knew and there was nowhere for him to hide.

And things started to change, subtly. People didn’t talk to him as much, suddenly too busy to get lunch together, and where he had once been a popular choice for football matches, he was left standing next to Sungjae whose leg was continually in a cast. Then the teachers started to pick up on it and he no longer sat anywhere near Jaebum in their shared lessons. They were split up in every way feasible without it being made explicit, still able to see each other in their free time, but not without harsh gazes following them through every crowded area. 

It hadn’t helped when Mark approached Jinyoung one afternoon, sporting a smug sort of grin behind his falsely sympathetic eyes. 

“I just wish you’d told me the truth Jinyoung. If you had come to me sooner, we could’ve sorted this out.” He’d said, forlorn and swimming with pity. 

Jinyoung had tried to shove past him, not prepared to engage in conversation while his heart was still bleeding, but Mark seemed to feel the need to dig his fingers in. He stepped to the side, blocking the way, and put a hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder.

“You’re not going to get into heaven with your hand on his dick, you know?”

That had been enough to snap Jinyoung’s last nerve. His head had whipped upwards just in time to catch the look on Mark’s face before he thrust his arm up and punched him smack in the centre of his nose. He’d been so angry that he didn’t even care as Mark cried out in pain, didn’t notice the blood gushing through Mark's fingers and past his hands as he swore cuss words under his breath, cradling his potentially broken nose, couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry as a nearby student shoved him out the way to take Mark to the school nurse.

Obviously he’d been reprimanded by a pantheon of teachers, his parents called once more, and the dirty looks intensified. Mark wasn’t all that popular but he was a “nice kid”, one that Jinyoung had no business picking fights with, and it was just another reason everybody could have to give him the cold shoulder.

 

It hadn’t played on Jinyoung’s mind much, not until he got a phone call one night while working on an essay. He’d glanced at the phone and seen his father’s number at the top of the screen, the object vibrating aggressively like an omen. The minute he’d pressed answer it was like his life had fallen apart, not that he didn’t expect it.

“You’re coming home. Moving back in with us.” 

The words had hurt but in a sort of pressing-on-a-fresh-bruise way, nothing like the harsh and clean stab wound he’d been anticipating.

“Dad, that’s not fai—”

“No, be quiet Jinyoung, you’ve proven that you can’t stay at that school. You’re coming back and getting homeschooled, no questions.”

“But dad—”

“I should’ve known that boarding school would turn you into a fucking queer. Goodbye, Jinyoung.” 

The phone line had gone silent on a beep and Jinyoung heard the other end click off. _That_ hurt in the clean, stab wound way he hadn’t been prepared for. He knew his parents wouldn’t be okay with it but his dad had always been a rather kind soul at heart, underneath the harsh discipline and heavy judgement, and Jinyoung had assumed he’d put it aside for the sake of his family. Clearly, some things were bigger than family. 

Jinyoung fell asleep that night with salt stung cheeks and an aching heart.   
  


When the day finally arrived, the day Jinyoung was to be taken home by his father, Jaebum had no clue. Jinyoung had avoided him the few days prior, too afraid to break his own heart and petrified that Jaebum would blame him. It was easier to leave without saying a word, a silent break in the early hours of the morning as the birds crowed and the sound of an engine felt light against the backdrop of a boys school. 

Jackson had offered to help him take his stuff down to the car, each side of the trunk held firmly in their grips, the weight balanced between them like the awkward and stiff conversation. 

“So… you’re really leaving school, then?” Jackson had asked hesitantly, a touch of guilt in his voice. 

Jinyoung nodded, eyes never leaving the floor in front of him.

“I’m sorry about ratting you guys out. If I’d have known…that they’d take it this seriously, I would’ve let it slide. I swear.”

Jinyoung had wanted to be mad, he’d wanted so much to shove Jackson out of the way and stomp down the steps of his dormitory alone with his back on the world, but he knew deep down that this couldn’t be helped. He and Jaebum were always going to get caught, and it would never end well, there was no use blaming that on Jackson’s sorry soul. 

“Jackson, it’s fine. This isn’t your fault. It’s not something you can fix.” 

The two had walked in silence the rest of the way, Jinyoung’s heavy heart at the bottom of his chest, too dead to drip with blood as it once had. He’d thought about Jaebum, the way his hand felt on his skin and his lips by his ear, the way he’d never feel those firm arms wrapped around him again. 

“Get in the car.” His father had instructed as soon as his things were in the boot. The headmaster stood off to the side, stern face unchanging even with the circumstances. Jinyoung offered a wave to Jackson in exchange for a sympathetic look and, with a final sigh, opened the door to the car. 

It was the same car he’d known since childhood but it didn’t feel the same. The leather that had once been warm and cushy against his back now seemed firm and unforgiving, and the seatbelt dug into his hip in a way that felt foreign.

Just as he had been about to shut the door for himself, he'd heard yelling from behind the car—a familiar voice.

“Jinyoung!” 

It'd been Jaebum, running in pyjamas across the gravel barefooted, yelling at the top of his lungs. Jinyoung had turned in his seat to watch Jaebum from the back window, his heart leaping out of his chest at the sight of the boy he loved running after him in their final moments. 

Jinyoung’s father had also noticed Jaebum by this point and was making his way back to the car, not willing to prolong the moment any further, and Jinyoung could feel tears building at the back of his skull, the sudden want and need flooding his system. He needed to say goodbye. He was stupid for thinking he could leave it like this. 

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum had yelled again, intercepted by the headmaster who grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and held him back. “I love—”

Jinyoung hadn’t heard the rest of it, the door to his left swinging shut and cutting Jaebum off. His dad had thrown himself into the car in a huff, turning the key in the ignition as Jinyoung watched Jaebum from the back of the car. He had wanted to do something, say something, but Jaebum wouldn’t hear him and nothing could ease the overpowering pain in his chest. He watched Jaebum until they drove out of sight, his figure vanishing behind the bend in the road, nothing but trees and tarmac for miles.   
  


 

\---

  
  


Jinyoung shakes the rain off his umbrella as he places it on the rack, his dark, leather shoes drenched where he drags them across the doormat. It’s cold in the church but no colder than outside, and it’s as desolate as the streets are on a christmas evening. 

The church is silent, save for the sounds of his footsteps, and it takes him a few moments to realise he’s not alone. He spots a figure at the end of the aisle, tucked away in the pews just in front of the altar. Jinyoung wonders why he’s here, if he’s just as lonely as he is, what his reason for being alone on christmas day could possibly be. 

There’s a whole church around them and the tall ceilings and the dimly lit candelabras do little to make it feel smaller. He feels swallowed up and drowned out, like his footsteps are muted as he makes his way down the aisle, polished shoes hitting the polished floor with every passing second. He’s thankful for the presence of another person, sick of being alone and resigned to the thoughts inside his own head, relieved that he can at least spend christmas in the solace of a stranger. 

When he reaches the end of the aisle and there’s nowhere further for his feet to go, he turns and sits on the other side of the pews, the only space left between them the place where a soon-to-be bride and groom stand on far happier days. They both sit there in silence, barely acknowledging each other, until the other man speaks up and Jinyoung’s blood runs cold.

“So… what’s brought you here, today?”

He knows it can’t be real, that it’s too crazy of a coincidence to be true, but he also knows that he’d recognise that voice anywhere, no matter the years. His head snaps to the left and he stares at the stranger’s face, only for his eyes to flood with recognition and for the man’s features to not seem so strange at all. 

“Jaebum?”

He hates the way his voice wobbles but he can’t help it when the man that he used to cradle in his arms and litter with sweet kisses is sitting right in front of him; devastatingly handsome, sad and alone. Jaebum’s eyes seem to widen in realisation and he too turns his head, their eyes locking in disbelief as the situation washes over them both and everything starts to sink in.

He looks gorgeous, Jinyoung thinks, though he’s not sure if that’s just the wavering candlelight or his own, unrelenting bias. He looks older, more rough around the edges, and there’s a little more jut to his cheekbones—he appears tired and beat down, hair slicked out of his face bar a couple of loose strands, and his eyes are harder than they used to be. But he still looks like Jaebum and Jinyoung can’t help but remember what those chapped lips like felt on his own, biting and nibbling at his jaw. His heart rate increases.

“Jinyoung?” Jaebum finally speaks, the emotion in his voice almost too much for Jinyoung to handle. It all hurts and he gets the urge to run, like this is a mirage, or a test, because there is no way this is possible. 

“And I was starting to give up on christmas miracles…” He mumbles, more to himself than anything, and Jaebum’s lips quirk up in a smile. 

“I can’t fucking believe it’s you. After what, seven years?” 

Jaebum sounds incredulous and Jinyoung doesn’t even cringe at the swearing, his heart ready to beat out of his chest with the affection that suddenly encapsulates him. He’s always missed Jaebum, barely a week goes by where he doesn’t think of him at least twice, but he’s suddenly struck by just  _ how  _ much he’s missed him.

It’s not a surprise to either of them when he leaps out of his seat and grabs Jaebum by the jacket and pulls him into a gut wrenchingly tight hug, both arms curled fiercely around him. Jaebum’s arms find their way around Jinyoung too, and Jinyoung wants to cry at how good it feels to be in Jaebum’s embrace once more, their bodies pressed flush together. He wants to weep over all the lost time and nearly forgotten memories—ones he replayed and rehashed so often, he couldn’t tell if they were real or not anymore.

“I missed you so much, you fucking idiot.” He murmurs into Jaebum’s neck, eyes squeezed shut for fear of it ruining the moment and everything slipping away. He knows this should be awkward, that they haven’t seen each other in the better half of a decade and that they’re different people now, but his head slots so nicely into the vacancy between Jaebum’s chin and collar, and Jaebum’s hands feel at home on his waist. It’s all  _ so much  _ that Jinyoung finds it hard to breathe.

“Hey, hey,” Jaebum chuckles softly, the familiar quiver of tears on the horizon laid across the vibrations of his voice, like he’s trying to keep it together for the both of them. “Why am I the idiot? You’re the one who left without saying anything.”

Jinyoung wants to be angry, wants to push Jaebum away and start an argument, shift the blame from himself to Jaebum, but he can’t. It’s never been Jaebum’s fault and he knows that. He knows that.

“I just..” Jinyoung says, voice cracking as he pulls away to look up at Jaebum’s face. The maturity of it throws him off and he feels uneasy at the sight of new scars and blemishes, ones he got during the time he no longer knew Jinyoung. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” 

Jaebum squeezes him tightly and Jinyoung feels the tightness up to his throat.

“You know I wouldn’t let that happen. We’re all grass, right? Me and you, we'll always be in the same field.” 

It’s cheesy and stupid but it feels like a sock to the heart and Jinyoung feels silly when the tears spill over and down his cheeks, the hiccups of relief bubbling up in his throat as Jaebum pets his hair softly. They stand there like that for God knows how long, until Jinyoung’s tears are reduced to sniffles and Jaebum has a warm hand on the centre of his back. 

“So, why are you alone on christmas?” He asks carefully, ever so slightly rocking back and forth on his heels. 

Jinyoung sighs, lifting his head to rub at his eyes embarrassedly, but thankful to see that Jaebum’s eyes aren’t that dry either.

“Practically estranged from my parents, and all my friends are with their families. Doesn’t leave me many options.” 

Jaebum sighs wistfully and there’s recognition in his eyes—he knows these feelings all the same.

“And you?” Jinyoung asks, enjoying the way Jaebum’s heartbeat passes through his chest and into the cavern of Jinyoung’s. The vibrations remind him he’s not alone.

“Well, I moved up here recently and it’s too far to travel home for christmas. Don’t really have any friends around here and I didn’t feel like barging in on a colleague’s christmas festivities.” He says with a faint smile and Jinyoung loses himself in Jaebum’s lips.

He’d spent so long missing everything about Jaebum; his flirtatious laugh that caused his mouth to curl at the edges, goofy white teeth bared like a bunny, even just the way his slightly small hands felt pressed to Jinyoung’s shoulders in times of desperation. 

“How would you feel about... spending christmas with me?” He inquires, breathless. 

Jaebum’s face lights up and it does  _ things  _ to Jinyoung’s heart.

“Never did I fucking think I’d bump into you, of all people, in a church on christmas day. We have a lot to catch up on.” 

Jinyoung grins and bites his lip.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“Yes, that’s a yes.” Jaebum nods. 

 

They talk for hours until the early hours of the morning, side by side on the hard wooden benches, knees brushing until Jinyoung leans in a little closer. 

“Jaebum, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” 

“Back in school, did you… did you love me?”

Jaebum smiles and reaches a hand out to cup Jinyoung’s cheek fondly, thumb caressing the skin in a way that makes him feel calm. His eyes don't quite meet Jinyoung's.

“Of course I did. I tried to tell you, but.. you were being driven away and it was too late.” 

Jinyoung blushes at the memory; at the image of Jaebum standing in his pyjamas through the back window of his car, the distance growing between them until they were both out of sight. 

“Good. Because I loved you too. I just wanted you to know that I loved you.”  
  


Jaebum’s lips feel gentle, and he can taste the sweet flavour of cinnamon and cardamom on them that reminds him of the hot chocolates his mother used to make. It’s all so familiar yet the distance between this moment and the last memory makes it hard to compare and Jinyoung feels overwhelmed with want. Here, under the arches of the tall building that he’d spent so long fighting with himself over, the prismatic light of sunrise pouring in through the stained glass windows and engulfing him in pale blue and burnt umber, Jinyoung feels happy. 

He knows that this moment will come to an end—a new day will come, he and Jaebum may be too different now for this to be the same, but it feels like a new beginning. It feels like the world, or God, giving him a chance where nobody else seemed to. It feels ambrosial. 

And as he watches his hand intertwined with Jaebum’s as the older boy pulls him through the church doors and into the crisp light of a new day, he’s at peace. 

Everything is gonna be just fine.

 

**Author's Note:**

> waaaAh i've been so swamped with work and exams recently it's been hard to keep up with fic reading and writing, even going on social media as much has been harder :((( i miss everyone a lot but yeah, i finished this and while i'm not sure i like it, i'm just glad to have just finished something ! 
> 
> i hope all the people who made it to the end somewhat liked it and any kudos/comments are always greatly appreciated!!!! lov u guys <3
> 
> ask.fm: [@w0nwoozi](https://ask.fm/w0nwoozi)  
> twitter: [@trash4jjp](https://twitter.com/trash4jjp)


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